Shake Hands With the Devil (19 page)

Invitations had been sent out to the president, the
RPF
chairman and leaders, the government ministers, representatives from the different political parties, the diplomatic corps and military leaders. The
RPF
's civilian delegation, including Pasteur Bizimungu, was quite large and arrived twenty minutes late, looking sullen. I was pleased to see them become more lighthearted as the event went on. Madame Agathe, Faustin Twagiramungu and Anastase Gasana all attended. Once again, Habyarimana was absent, along with Paul Kagame; to be quite honest, I was somewhat relieved, because in this setting, I couldn't have provided the level of security they required. But I had expected the minister of defence, Augustin Bizimana, and key members of the ruling
MRND
party, and I was very disturbed when they didn't show up. Their absence didn't go unnoticed by the
RPF
, either. I took it as a deliberate slight to
UNAMIR
, the implication being that neither we nor the peace accord were important enough to them to warrant their time.

Still, the event was simple and respectful and passed without incident. The flag was raised and the constant breeze made it unfurl majestically; it was a rather big blue flag, and its communion with the blue of the Rwandan sky made quite a statement. The speeches, including my own, were laced with optimism, and
UNAMIR
received unequivocal support from the Rwandan leaders who attended. The major artisans of
the ceremony, Colonel Figoli and his
MILOB
s, were quite proud of themselves and earned my admiration and gratitude.

After the speeches were over, the crowd pressed in, enjoying the scant refreshments we could afford—warm soft drinks—and mixing joyfully together in a situation that any security person would have regarded as a nightmare. The
RPF
were the first to leave—the situation was becoming a little too much of a carnival and their soldiers were getting tense—followed by the other dignitaries. After spending some time with a group of children, learning how to play soccer with a ball made of banana leaves and twine, I finally left for Kigali, my worries about the future of the mission and the country reduced to a dull roar, mostly confined to brooding about the slight by the
MRND
. The press, both local and international, left with great pictures and, for a change, a good-news story from central Africa.

When I got back to Kigali that night, I decided I needed to consult with Dr. Kabia, who was in Kabale doing adept political work for
UNOMUR
, negotiating with Ugandan government officials for more freedom of movement for the troops as well as a much deeper area of surveillance. I wanted to know whether I should make an issue out of the absence of the hard-liners at the flag-raising, and Kabia quite wisely pointed out that if I complained publicly about it, the hard-liners would only say that they hadn't come because they hadn't been certain that
UNAMIR
could guarantee their safety. The mission would be embarrassed and I wouldn't have gained a thing.

Over the next weeks I consulted with Dr. Kabia often, as the political pace of the mission picked up. I knew him to be a square shooter, with solid contacts inside the department of political affairs back in New York, and he always gave me quality advice. When another suitable person became available to take over his duties in Uganda, he flew to Kigali to become my political adviser, and later became chief of staff for the
SRSG
.

The Belgian reconnaissance group had packed up and gone home, leaving a few staff officers behind to carry on with preparations for the main contingent. The Belgians had been visible all over town during their
five days of information-gathering, and there'd been a few minor demonstrations against them that attracted some attention, especially from the radio station
RTLM
. My rationale for their presence, if anyone asked, was that although these troops were wearing Belgian uniforms, they were under
UN
operational command, and the badge of authority was the
UN
badge and the blue beret. Also, both the
RPF
and the Rwandan government had seen the list of troop-contributing countries that we had supplied for the approval of the Security Council, and neither of the ex-belligerents had objected to the presence of Belgian soldiers. I think they were resigned to accepting the Belgians because organizing another national contingent would have taken months; Maurice Baril had made it clear that no other First World country was remotely interested. As long as the Belgian troops behaved well and we continued to enjoy the goodwill of the Rwandans, I believed the situation was manageable.

We had roughly three weeks to get ready to receive the Belgian contingent, and increasing numbers of military observers were arriving every day. I spent much of the first half of November working flat out with my fifty or so officers, in order to get the force headquarters at least functional. We were less and less welcome at the Mille Collines; guests on vacation and soldiers on a mission do not mix very well. I set Hallquist the task of finding us permanent headquarters that would house both the military and administrative sections. I also thought that planting the
UN
flag in Kigali would serve the same symbolic purpose as my flag-raising in Kinihira—demonstrate our commitment to helping the country move to a lasting peace.

We were still having endless administrative and resource problems. I remember sending a message over the radio to Colonel Figoli in the demilitarized zone, telling him I needed written situation reports on what was going on up there, and he radioed back saying that they had no paper or pencils to write with and that their request for more had been denied by Hallqvist for budgetary reasons.

The process of vehicle allocation was even more aggravating. The
UN
's workhorses for transport and communications were a hodgepodge of thousands of Japanese four-wheel-drive
SUV
s, which had been donated
for the Cambodia mission. They were tough enough to survive the terrible roads and rough terrain, were equipped with decent radios (though not encrypted or secure) and were air-conditioned (which I actually viewed as a drawback because it was hard to start a conversation with the locals when troops were keeping their windows rolled up in order to stay cool). The dispersal of these vehicles was the province of the
CAO
, and Hallqvist distinctly left the impression that civilian needs came before military ones.
MILOB
s lucky enough to have vehicles were accused of wasting gas on short errands in Kigali, while some civilian staff were burning up fuel taking weekend jaunts to see the gorillas in Volcano National Park and other sights in Rwanda.

It maddened me that I was forced to fight a petty internal war over vehicles and office supplies. The lack of supplies and the delays damn near hijacked the mission. I had hundreds of troops arriving, and I had no kitchens, no food and no place to billet them. The unvarying official response to my complaints was that national contingents were supposed to come with a two-month supply of rations and to be self-sustaining. That was the rule. If they didn't, the
UN
didn't have the resources to make up the difference, and I would be left to improvise. Rich Western nations, such as Canada and Belgium, could afford these resources, but poor nations could not—often they were more or less “renting” their soldiers to the
UN
in exchange for hard currency. The result, which was terrible for building a united peacekeeping force, was that the Western soldiers were reasonably comfortable in the field while the Third World soldiers were living in near-destitution.

Under the pressure of events and the ever-retreating Arusha milestones, my staff was working night and day. Hallqvist and his civilian staff generally worked nine to five, Monday to Friday. The rationale was that he and his people were in Rwanda for the long haul, whereas the military personnel were passing through. They were soldiers and should expect to make do. However, because of my rank and secondment contract from Canada, Hallqvist seemed to expect me to take advantage of every possible perk and privilege: fancy car, big house, all the little luxuries. I believe a commander does his mission a disservice when he lives
high off the hog while his soldiers are eating meagre meals prepared by cooks standing in the pouring rain in temporary kitchens. I think I may have actually shocked Hallqvist when I returned the Mercedes staff car he assigned me in favour of the UN standard four-by-four Land Cruiser and sent Willem de Kant out to rent us a small house, where I intended to house him and myself, and Brent and my personal driver when they arrived. I did not want one of the comfortable residences that so many of the
UN
staff were acquiring, because it sent a message to the Rwandan people that we put our comfort before their interests, and I couldn't stomach that. I loved the house that Willem found us: it was on a hill in Kigali and was cosy and clean behind its wall and single metal gate. Each morning I drank tea on the patio, staring out at the view of the city spread below me, and I sometimes struggled to find the resolve to leave that peaceful spot to take up the challenges of the day.

When I complained about the administrative situation to Maurice and Riza, they were sympathetic, but even they couldn't do anything to reform the system. Hallqvist was operating well within the
UN
guidelines. He and I were stuck with each other and with the battle lines that our differing sets of imperatives drew across the heart of the mission.

As my
UNAMIR MILOB
s arrived, we formed them into multinational teams. As vehicles and radios became available, I dispatched the teams throughout the country to conduct reconnaissance and locate potential team sites, meet political, security and military officials in the prefectures, show the flag and get the word out as to who we were and what we were up to.

When Colonel Tikoka arrived, he assumed overall command of the military observer group. Tiko had done many of the military assessments back in August with Brent. Anyone who has ever served with Tiko has many tales to tell about his bravery and daring. During his last
UN
mission, in Somalia, he had had so many vehicles shot out from under him that only the most gung-ho soldiers would ride with him. He is a fine soldier, fearless and big-hearted, a commander who adores his troops and is capable of winning their absolute loyalty even in the direst of circumstances. His only failing was an aversion to paperwork
of any kind, which meant that my force headquarters sometimes went without the vital information we needed to get a good picture of what was going on in the area under his purview, which was almost everywhere outside Kigali. His men were travelling unarmed through country that had recently been at war; some were braver and more resourceful than others, and Tiko was excellent at figuring out this human calculus and deploying the best that he had into the most complicated settings. He even finally rectified his aversion to paperwork by instituting a rigorous set of standard operating procedures among the numerous observer teams around the country.

After a frustrating search, Hallqvist finally found a suitable permanent location for
UNAMIR
headquarters in the Amahoro (Peace) Stadium and attached athletes' hotel. The complex was in an excellent tactical location, off the major route to the airport in the east end of Kigali. The enclosed stadium could accommodate up to a battalion's worth of soldiers, vehicles and equipment. The hotel provided more than sufficient space for offices and conference rooms.

I set the official opening for the mission headquarters for November 17. I was pushing the pace—my Belgian contingent wouldn't arrive for another two days and I'd have to use
MILOB
s to monitor the proceedings—but we needed the exposure in front of the local and foreign press. We were falling behind in our phase-one objectives, and I wanted to show that I was prepared to make up for lost time. And at last President Habyarimana, who hadn't met with me since I arrived in Kigali, was willing to come out to express his support for
UNAMIR
in public. The
RPF
was also supportive, though they were only sending Commander Karake Karenzi, their liaison officer to
UNAMIR
, since I couldn't at that point offer much in the way of security in Kigali for a larger party of the former enemy.

I met President Habyarimana at the main entrance of the hotel complex, dressed in my Canadian general's uniform with
UN
insignia on the shoulders and wearing my blue beret. He was statesmanlike in an impeccable dark suit and black shoes so shiny they looked like patent leather. He shook my hand in a dignified fashion. Except for a few
bodyguards dressed in civvies, he left his Presidential Guard escort outside and walked with me to the main hall.

We were greeted by sustained applause, cheers and laughter. The atmosphere was celebratory, even though we'd been able to muster none of the pomp and fancy trappings of major international headquarters. People were seated on a couple of hundred borrowed folding chairs and wooden benches, and I led the president to his place at the front of the room, behind an ordinary six-foot-long folding table that we'd draped with some cloth. The
UN
and Rwandan flags were linked on the wall behind him in symbolic harmony.

I was the first to speak and attempted three or four lines in Kinyarwanda, which our few local staff had written out phonetically for me. Hearty laughter greeted me, but the attempt—and the rest of my speech, in which I reverted to French to explain
UNAMIR
's presence in the country—seemed to go over well with the crowd. Then the president delivered a heartfelt speech in French, full of high hopes for peace, co-operation and reconciliation, which surprised me because it broke with his party's usual dogma.